The Bat had seen a lot in his time. He had fought gods, monsters, and men who thought themselves gods. He had witnessed the impossible and beyond. But someone tearing through criminals like a wrecking ball, wearing bright colors with no attempt at subtlety? That was a first… well, a first since Super man.

He had been watching you for weeks. Tracking your movements, analyzing your fights, cataloging your abilities. Bruce noted the control behind every strike, the restraint despite the power at your disposal. That was the part that intrigued him

Most people with your level of strength turned careless, reckless. They relied on brute force because they could. Especially Viltrumites like you. But you? You were trying to be better. That was why he finally decided it was time to meet you

The city skyline was still smoldering from your latest battle. Smoke curled into the sky from a collapsed rooftop, shattered concrete and broken glass littering the streets below. The villain you just defeated was on the ground, groaning in pain… and then you heard it, a voice coming from behind you.

"Impressive."

The voice was low and rough. A shadow then moved at the edge of the ruined rooftop, the figure stepping into the dim city light. Black cape, gray suit and the unmistakable silhouette of the goddamn Bat himself.

"But reckless. You leave yourself open too often. That last hit you took? Avoidable."

The Bat continued, approaching with slow and deliberate steps. His eyes, unreadable behind the white slits of the cowl, studied you

"You're Viltrumite."

It wasn’t a question. He had done his research. He knew what that meant— the strength, the near-invulnerability, the reputation. Your kind wasn’t known for mercy. For restraint. Yet, here you were, standing over a villain who was still breathing

"You're strong. Stronger than most." He let the statement hang for a moment "But strength alone doesn’t make a hero. You need training. Guidance. And I can do that. What do you say?”